"I want you to go to the Laramie Club and tell Aleck Van Camp--got the
name?--that Hambleton has gone off on the _Jeanne D'Arc_ and may not be
back for some time; and he is to look after the _Sea Gull_."

"Hold on, young man; you're not going to do anything out of reason, as
one might say?"

"Oh, no, not at all; most reasonable thing in the world. You take this
money and be sure to get the message to Mr. Van Camp, will you? All
right. Now tell me where I can find a tug-boat or a steam launch,
quick."

"O'Leary, down at pier X--2--O has launches and everything else. All
right, my son, Aleck Van Camp, at the Laramie. But you be good and
don't drown yourself."

This last injunction, word for word in the manner of the pert Edith,
touched Jimmy's humor. He laughed ringingly. His spirit was like a
chime of bells on a week-day.

The hour which followed was one that James Hambleton found it difficult
to recall afterward, with any degree of coherence; but at the time his
movements were mathematically accurate, swift, effective. He got
aboard a little steam tug and followed the yacht down the river and
into the harbor. As she stood out into the roads and began to increase
her speed, he directed the captain of the tug to steam forward and make
as if to cross her bows. This would make the pilot of the yacht angry,
but he would be forced to slow down a trifle. Jim watched long enough
to see the success of his manoeuver, then went down into the cuddy
which served as a cabin, took off most of his clothes, and looked to